


We Are Our Own Heroes

by Jelly



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-24
Updated: 2013-05-24
Packaged: 2017-12-12 20:12:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,513
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/815557
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jelly/pseuds/Jelly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Five times Roy and Riza saved each other's lives.</p>
            </blockquote>





	We Are Our Own Heroes

_v._

Riza Hawkeye starts off as a shy little creature – twelve years old and all alone; unliked and bullied by everyone at school and unloved and neglected by her own father. She doesn't even remember her mother. All her life, it's been nothing but a world of light and shadows, where everyone else but her stands in the light and she's been left alone and afraid in the dark with no one to turn to.

She hates this life. Hates her school, her town, her father (to an extent – he's still her father and no matter how hard she tries to  _really_  hate him for putting her through this, she can't bring herself to) – but she's not bitter about it. She's just sad.

She wanders off on her own whenever she can. At least – when she wanders off, she's alone but she can have some semblance of peace. Sometimes she wonders if anyone would notice if she went missing. She lies back on the rarely ever used train tracks and wonders if anyone would miss her if a train appeared out of nowhere shattered her body here and now.

Would any one even care?

She shrugs to herself. Probably not. She's just that odd little girl – the daughter of that one crazy old man who lives out of town. They probably don't even know her name.

Perhaps, when she goes home today and gets into bed, some kind merciful being up there will save her from having to get up tomorrow morning and endure the monotony another long day.

No one will notice. No one cares about her.

Until one day somebody does.

* * *

 

"So you're Riza, huh?"

Riza blinks. There's a strange man – no – he's not quite that old – there's a strange  _boy_  watching her from the kitchen counter with untidy dark hair and kind, even darker eyes.

"Hello," she greets awkwardly.

He smiles at her, hopping off the counter stool to offer her a hand. Odd she thinks. She can't even remember the last time someone shook her hand – let alone the last time someone gave her a smile.

"I'm Roy," he says. "Roy Mustang. I'm here to study under your dad. It's nice to meet you."

Riza hesitates.

"I won't bite," says Roy, grinning. "Really – it's a pleasure to meet you. Here's hoping we'll be good friends."

"I – um – " she starts. Then she shakes her head and takes his offered hand shyly. "It's nice to meet you too, Mister Mustang," she mumbles, turning her eyes to the ground. He's far too nice, she thinks, but he's sincere, she knows it – she can see it in his eyes. And she thinks that maybe, this boy is a saviour – his hand offering her a chance to step into the light too.

He is. And months later, she realises that Roy Mustang might have just saved her life the moment he walked through their front door.

* * *

_iv._

The first time Roy Mustang ever kills another man, he's forced to use his alchemy to do it.

He'd known that he'd have to learn how to kill some time. He is a soldier, and while soldiers maintain that it is their duty to protect, sometimes – most of the time – protecting something means having to kill to someone else.

But  _this_? This is not for the sake of protecting the people. They call this an extermination, but for  _what_? Roy doesn't know. There are people dying – Amestrians and Ishbalans alike - and for what purpose? None?

This is not why he became an alchemist. This is not why joined the army.

Everything he is doing here is so against everything he's ever believed in that he can't bring himself to even think he ever really believed in them at all.

He's numb, now. He doesn't feel human. He could die – heaven knows, after what he's done, he deserves to die – he could be shot from behind or blown to bits by a stray grenade and he could die and not even feel it. He doesn't feel anything anymore.

But one day, a sniper approaches them, hood up and shielding their features from the desert sun.

"Hello, Major Mustang," she says, familiar burgundy eyes warped with the death they've caused and seen. "Long time no see. Do you still remember me?"

For the first time in months, the feelings return, and Roy realises how horrible it feels to be alive after all he's done.

* * *

She saves him that night.

It's late. Everyone else is asleep – or at least trying to – soldiers don't get to rest often out here and they'll take what few hours of respite they can. He and she, on the other hand, against their better judgement, are wandering through the ruined buildings in the dim moonlight, savouring the rare peace and quiet of a late night free of screams and gunshots and explosions.

"I know why you're here," he mumbles, shoving his hands into his pockets and keeping his eyes trained on the ground. "Your father's alchemy... it wasn't supposed to be used for this."

Riza sighs. "I trusted you," she mutters. "I showed you my father's secrets because I trusted you, because I thought – "

"I know." He looks up at her, eyes riddled with guilt. "Believe me, I  _know._ Hundreds of people are dead because of me – hell, this very  _building_  – I didn't mean for it to be like this..." He pauses and stares back at the ground again, fists clenching by his sides. "I considered offing myself," he mumbles. "A lot more people will survive this Goddamn war if I don't make it out alive."

"No," she whispers.

They step into the shadows and Roy finds that she has stopped walking and that they are standing much too close to each other than they should be.

"I want to say I blame you for all of this, but I don't." Riza peers at him tiredly through the darkness. "I still believe in you."

Roy watches her, studies her beautiful, weary features in the pale moonlight, and all of a sudden, he's kissing her. He doesn't know why – he knows they probably shouldn't do this, and not out here of all places, but he's glad to see her – furious that she has to be  _here_ , that she's had to learn how to kill too – but glad to see at least one other familiar face. He's tired of death – tired of feeling numb and inhuman – he's just _tired_  and what he wants more than anything right now is for someone to lie to him and tell him that he's not a monster; for someone to prove to him that he's still human.

Their hands fly everywhere: hers rake urgently through his hair and grip at his shoulders while his press her back against a crumbling wall and move to her waist, her hips and then to the waistband of her military issue slacks. They don't bother with non-essentials – they want to be quick about this – it doesn't mean anything: just a quick fuck between two desperate soldiers who want nothing more than to remind themselves of how it feels to be alive (or so they tell themselves).

It's not much, but she still believes in him, and that's enough to convince him to live on for now.

* * *

_iii._

Maes Hughes dies young.

Riza has never seen her Colonel so lost and defeated, and it kills her because she understands that his death is just another reminder of how he can't protect everyone. It hits especially hard, she knows, because Maes is his closest friend, and if he can't even protect his closest friend, how can he protect everyone else?

Maes had always promised to push him up from below; had always been his closest brother in arms and the only other person, save her, to have known him since Ishbal.

It is another blow to his already broken mindset – another death he should have done more to stop, even though he knows there was nothing he could have done. He has been through more than enough already, but this – this is might push him over the edge.

Because the worst part about it is that Maes isn't just dead. It's that Maes is dead for knowing something he shouldn't have known. It's that, according the report, Maes tried to make a phone call to Colonel Mustang's office in the dead of the night, had told the operator it was urgent, and by the time the call had been patched through, he was gone.

And now Riza is at a loss.

She has always done what she can for her Colonel, but she can only do so much – and she certainly can't take Maes Hughes' place. She feels guilty because she has been with him long enough to know how to fix most things except this, and she feels devastated because Maes was her friend too.

Mostly she's afraid that he'll do something stupid tonight. She'll never tell him, but Colonel Mustang is all she has left.

She can't let him suffer through this alone.

* * *

She knocks twice on his apartment door the eve of Maes' funeral and waits to see if he answers the door before she reaches up over the doorframe for the extra key. It's just as she puts the key into the lock that the doorknob turns and the door is pulled back to reveal her tired, red-eyed Colonel with a glass of scotch in hand.

He blinks at her. "Hawkeye," he greets. "What brings you here this evening?"

She considers lying to him for a moment because she knows that he hates it when they concern themselves too much with his wellbeing, but she has never lied to him before and she's hardly about to start now. "We're worried about you, sir," she tells him shortly. She says 'we' because it's true: the men are worried too, but mostly she means just her. The boys don't know him as well as she does – only she knows what he might do.

Roy studies her for a moment, but understanding lights his eyes and he nods, offering her a grim smile. "Thank you for coming," he murmurs, pulling the door back and inviting her in. "I hope you'll excuse the mess, Lieutenant. Can I get you anything to drink? I'm afraid I don't have much to offer other than that."

"I'm fine, thank you, sir." She stands awkwardly in his hallway, quite unsure of what to do with herself now that she's here. There's a bit of an awkward pause before Roy realises her discomfort.

"You can take a seat," he says, stepping back into the kitchen and draining the last of his scotch. "And if it eases your mind, I have every intention of being at my desk tomorrow morning before – before the funeral."

She spots the handgun on the table and somehow, Riza thinks he isn't being quite as honest with her as she would like, but she says nothing as she picks her way through the mess and seats herself on the far end of his couch.

"I appreciate your coming, Lieutenant," mumbles Roy at last, taking a seat as well. "Really. Thank you."

"Your welcome, sir," she says quietly. "I thought... you might need someone else around tonight."

He scoffs. "I'm not keen on admitting it but you're probably right. You usually are."

"That's kind of you to say."

"It's plenty true."

They pause. They must look like a truly awkward pair, thinks Riza – she is sitting on one side of his couch, her back ramrod straight, hands folded neatly in her lap, while he sits on the other, body slouched over, face in his hands.

"Lieutenant," he says at last.

"Sir?"

"Don't – " he takes a breath. "Don't you leave me too. You're all I have left now."

Despite herself, she almost smiles. "Of course, sir. I wouldn't dream of it."

* * *

_ii._

For the fifteen years he has known her, he has never heard Riza Hawkeye scream.

He's limping around in underground Central – he has no idea where these tunnels lead and the pain in his side is making it ridiculously difficult to think, but his First Lieutenant is screaming, and that can only mean very,  _very_  bad things.

That woman – a homunculus, she had called herself – she is the reason Havoc may very well be dying at this very moment. She is the reason he has third degree burns in his side, and if that woman is the reason his Lieutenant is screaming right now, heaven help him,  _things will burn_.

He has already lost Maes to this group of sons-of-bitches, he will  _not_  lose Hawkeye too. They have been together for too long – she is the only one he has left – if he loses her too, there's no telling what he will do afterwards.

The burn in his side is agonising but he can't stop. Not yet. Not until he knows that woman can't harm anyone else he loves. Grunting, he leans against the wall to keep himself upright, but he soldiers on, right hand sliding against the wall, stinging pain in his left where he had carved the array into his skin, and God, it hurts,  _it hurts, ithurts_.

And then the screaming stops.

Roy snarls. If Hawkeye is dead...

He doesn't want to think about it. She had better not be dead.

He will never forgive himself if she is.

* * *

She's fine (thank heavens,  _she's fine_ ). The homunculus is dead – he'd made sure of that – and by the time Alphonse volunteers to lead the medics to their location, Roy is only half conscious and only kind of aware of how his Lieutenant is on her knees, vigilantly watching over him as she has always done.

In this lighting, and in his only-somewhat-awake state of mind, she looks like an angel – always watching out for him and always swooping in at the last minute to save his sorry ass from making stupid mistakes and getting himself killed.

He's glad he got to return the favour this time – although if she knew he was thinking that, he's not sure she'd appreciate it. She likes to think that protecting him is a one way job.

"Have you been crying?" he asks her weakly.

Riza sniffs and shakes her head. "Only a little, sir," she mutters.

"Don't lie..."

She scoffs.

"Why've you been crying?"

Riza swallows and stares down at her knuckles. "I thought – I thought she'd killed you," she murmurs. "She told me she'd killed you. I thought I'd failed." She shakes her head again. "I apologise, sir. I shouldn't have let her get to me."

"You shouldn't have," Roy reprimands tiredly. "It'll take a lot more than her to kill me."

They lapse into silence as the clunking of heavy boots sound from the hall. The medics must have found them – Roy wonders if they managed to find Jean all right. He'd instructed Alphonse to make sure they found him first.

"Sir?" says Riza quietly as the boots get louder.

"Yeah?"

"Thank you. That's twice today you've saved my life."

He waves her off. "It's the least I can do," he manages. He doesn't elaborate, but he hopes she understands what he means.

* * *

_i._

He thinks, after the Promised Day, Riza  _has_  to have figured it out by now. He will be sorely disappointed if she hasn't realised that his life depends on hers, and even though he's been trying to pretend it doesn't for the sake of professionalism for the last decade or so, there is no possible way he can deny it now.

When Marcoh restores Jean's legs and his sight and he is dismissed from the hospital, he comes to visit her everyday. They keep her there for longer one, because she'd lost so much blood that day that it's miraculous she even survived at all and two, because they don't recognise Mei Chang's alkaehestry and they don't know if they've fixed everything properly.

Riza is impatient about this, of course. Her commanding officer has been released and she's still in hospital waiting for those doctors to decide that she really is all right, which is stupid, she thinks, because  _clearly_ she is. She appreciates that he visits her everyday though. She likes to think that he's humouring her and letting her watch over him, but really, who is she kidding? She likes his company, and they both know there's much more to it than that.

It's only a matter of time before it comes up in conversation, really. They can only ignore the topic for so long.

* * *

"Permission to speak freely, sir?" Riza asks one day. She's scheduled to be released tomorrow, and for some reason, the advent of being able to get out of the hospital only makes her more impatient.

Roy chuckles. "Why do you even ask that? You're off duty for one and you've always been allowed to speak freely."

"Old habits," says Riza shrugging. "It's just that I notice you've been around here often – "

"Just a few times," he interrupts lightly. "A couple of times a week. Everyday. Go on."

Riza gives him a look. "Not that I don't appreciate your company, sir, but don't you have other, more important things to attend to? The paperwork for the transfer to Ishbal, perhaps?"

"And leave you here bored out of your mind and all by your lonesome?" He laughs. "I think not, Lieutenant."

"You know what I mean, sir."

"I don't," says Roy lightly. He offers her a toothy grin. "Why don't you elaborate?"

There's a pause. He's being awfully playful about this – which isn't all that out of the ordinary in itself, only that she knows he's provoking her. It's as if he sees the things between them in a different light now, and it's strange and wonderful, and he can't help but go and it with a stick. It's as if he wants to say something to her that he can't quite say unless he has a sufficient enough excuse for it and it's stupid, really, but it's endearing if anything else.

"What are you  _here_ , sir?" she asks him finally.

"I'm visiting you, of course," he answers.

"I've been here two weeks, sir," she retorts, "and since you've been released, you've been back every day for the entirety of visiting hours. Surely you have more important things to be doing?"

"Like paperwork and that's just oh so riveting." He smirks and raises an eyebrow at her. "Let me ask you something: You've been taking care of me for the last fifteen years, on or off duty, Lieutenant – why don't you like it when I return the favour?"

She stares at him, quite unable to process what it is he's asking her. "It's my  _job_  to protect you, sir?" she answers as if it's the most obvious thing in the world.

"It's your job to protect me even when you're  _off duty_?"

"I wouldn't be a very good bodyguard otherwise, sir." She shifts uncomfortably under her skin – this is getting into territory they just don't discuss. Of course, having known her for so long, Roy doesn't miss it.

He does nothing to ease it though. He just grins, as if this is exactly what he wants them to discuss.

"Can I ask you why you followed me into the army in the first place?"

"You know why, sir," she tells him. "You told me so, that night in Ishbal. I followed you because I wanted to make sure you were using my father's secrets for their intended use."

"Is that the only reason?"

Riza stares at him. She can't say yes because it would be the most obvious lie she has ever told in the history of the few lies she's ever told him. It will almost be an insult to his intelligence if she lies to him now because,  _really_ , there's no one else who knows her better. But she can't say no, either, because that would mean she has to elaborate and this is the only topic they just  _don't_  elaborate on for various reasons including 'it's against protocol' and 'it's inappropriate'.

"The day you walked into my father's house was the day you first saved my life," she murmurs finally, opting for somewhere in the middle. "I wanted to return the favour."

Roy chuckles. "You've certainly repaid that favour. Why haven't you left yet?"

Riza hesitates but she shakes her head. "I can't repay the favour if you keep adding to my debt," she mutters cryptically.

He laughs. "I see." He leans back in his chair and grins at her. "I understand. You've more than repaid the favour, Lieutenant. You save mine every damn day – and not just in the literal sense."

They pause. And then they laugh because this conversation seems so odd for them that they can't help it, and it takes her a minute, but in the end she understands and it brings a smile to her face.

They save each other's lives everyday just by breathing. That's all there is to know.


End file.
